


All I Want For Christmas

by Dazzlious



Series: Christmas Stories [8]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Christmas, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-09-27 12:24:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17161940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dazzlious/pseuds/Dazzlious
Summary: Draco Malfoy asks Father Christmas for an impossible gift.





	All I Want For Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from JK Rowling’s fantastic books or films, I’m just borrowing and playing with them for a little while and get no monetary reward for doing so. 
> 
> A/N: It’s that time of year again; when my mind turns towards Father Christmas and more importantly the gifts he brings. It also means it’s time for my annual Draco and Hermione Christmas story, so here it is. As ever it’s not particularly canon but who cares? It’s a Christmas fanfic after all, so anything goes. As always I want to thank my lovely beta, Mamacita, for putting up with my terrible punctuation etc. all year, and you for reading. I really do appreciate it. I hope you all have a happy and peaceful few days, whether or not you celebrate any of the many religious festivals at this time of year. I hope you enjoy the story. Dx

Draco stared around him, not at all interested in his surroundings, having been dragged into Wiseacre’s by his father. As far as he was concerned the place was more boring than Flourish and Blotts, the bookshop they had been in previously, and there was even less in here that he wanted to look at. He had no idea what his father was looking for and had no intention of asking in case he suddenly found himself being roped into the search. Instead, he stood, tapping his foot restlessly and feeling out of place between a collection of crystal balls and a display of moon globes, sighing expressively every so often as the minutes ticked by without any sign of his father returning.

He realised the shop had become more crowded when a sudden commotion ahead of him and to the right was enough to pique his interest for a moment. Draco’s gaze wandered to an area cordoned off by thick, ancient, velvet ropes. There was nothing to see except for a large, empty and somewhat shabby gold-painted chair that resembled a throne positioned in the middle of a thick red carpet, but it was clear that something was about to happen as a crowd was building that would shortly obscure his view.

Draco debated whether to move closer and get a better look but decided he couldn’t be bothered. Whatever was happening it wasn’t likely to be of concern to him; he couldn’t think of anyone who might take up residence in the chair that he was interested enough to move forward for. But the crowd was still growing, the excitement in the air almost infectious as it spread throughout the small shop.

There was a brief flash of red but then, with the removal of the ropes, the crowd surged forward and all Draco could see were the heads of the shoppers. He watched, feeling smug and superior at his decision not to join the throng as harried shop assistants attempted to pull the crowd into some semblance of an orderly queue.

Draco remembered an occasion in his second year at Hogwarts when the author Gilderoy Lockhart had caused similar mayhem in Flourish and Blotts. Then, he’d had no choice but to participate as the man’s godawful books had been on the Hogwarts reading list for the Defence Against the Dark Arts class and the only way to get them was to queue up and meet the man. He also recalled that his father had nearly got them both thrown out of the shop thanks to an altercation with an inferior wizard and his unruly family which had got out of hand.

Draco scanned the queue to see if he could work out who the store’s guest was from the people waiting to meet them. It was impossible to tell; there were an awful lot of children with their parents and a fair amount of giggling teenagers, no doubt other students from Hogwarts. He could see a few people he recognised although they were taking no notice of him as they chattered and laughed.

He was particularly drawn to a group of four, the two girls laughing and pulling at the two reluctant boys who were with them as they joined the end of the queue. Draco’s eyes narrowed as he watched Hermione Granger, trying to gauge whether one of the boys, Potter or Weasley, was her boyfriend. He told himself that he didn’t particularly care but it would be useful knowledge that might be used against them later. It was hard to tell as Granger didn’t seem to favour either of them, and Weasley’s sister wasn’t hanging off Potter as if she was his girlfriend.

Without realising he was doing so, Draco moved closer, his father completely forgotten, following the quartet as the queue slowly decreased until there were only a handful of people left and he could now see the red-suited form of Father Christmas sitting on the throne-like chair. He rolled his eyes, feeling even more self-satisfied for not having queued for something so childish and pathetic.

Granger and her friends were now at the front of the queue and she and the Weasley girl were trying, not very successfully, to get Weasley and Potter to go with them. After a few seconds of cajoling and remonstrations the girls approached the figure in the chair on their own, the jolly old man with the huge white beard laughing jovially as he welcomed them.

Draco watched as Granger leant in to talk to the man in red, presumably imparting some Christmas request, and he wondered what she was asking for. He couldn’t understand why she was bothering when she must have known the man she was talking to had no possibility of granting her wish. She was more than intelligent enough to understand that. Then again she was Muggle-born, and Muggles all seemed to be very invested in Father Christmas, despite the fact that he couldn’t possibly exist.

The girls hugged the old man in red, shared another joke, then walked off to meet their friends as the next person in the queue took their place at the throne. Draco watched them go, Weasley quite clearly ribbing Granger about what she had just done. Then, losing interest, Draco began to scan the shop for his father. There was still no sign of him.

‘You haven’t told me what you want for Christmas.’

The warm, rich voice surprised Draco out of his search. He turned to look at the man in the red suit for a moment before dismissing him.

‘What’s the point in talking to you? Don’t pretend you’re the real Father Christmas; he doesn’t exist. It’s just a story to get the kids excited and I’m far too old to be taken in by that now. I know it’s my parents who are giving me the presents, so you’re wasting your time, old man.’

Father Christmas didn’t look particularly upset at Draco’s response. His blue eyes were still twinkling and he was smiling as he shook his head with fond disappointment.

‘You’re a wizard and know perfectly well that magic exists and yet you don’t believe in me. I could understand incredulity from a Muggle but not from one of my own kind. Surely you understand that the stories about me relate to magic?’

Draco shrugged. ‘Okay, so you’re real. But that doesn’t change the fact that you’re not delivering presents to my house on Christmas Eve — my parents buy them and put them under the tree when I’m not around. You’re nothing more than an avatar so I’ve no reason to talk to you or ask you for anything.’

‘But how do you know that I don’t deliver your presents? As you said, they appear when you’re not around.’

Draco snorted. ‘Because I know my parents, and I also know that you’d never get anywhere near the Manor. It’s far too well protected.’

‘I can go anywhere — my special magic means that no spell or ward can keep me out on Christmas Eve . . . and that includes Malfoy Manor,’ Father Christmas said.

‘Okay, whatever. But I’m still not going to ask you for anything.’ Draco turned as if to walk away.

‘There must be something you want, Draco,’ Father Christmas’ voice was softer and more questioning now.

Draco turned back and stared at him with suspicion. ‘How do you know my name?’

Father Christmas smiled. ‘I’m Father Christmas. I know everyone’s name. So come on, tell me what you want.’

Draco knew he was being ridiculous talking to this man even if the old loon did know his name, and it was worrying that he did although presumably he was an acquaintance of his father’s. Father Christmas didn’t exist . . . couldn’t exist . . . it was probably just Draco’s parents’ way of trying to find out what he wanted for Christmas without them asking him. No doubt his father had talked to the man earlier and pointed him out.

‘I can have anything I want, can I?’ he asked.

‘If it can be procured then you can have it,’ Father Christmas confirmed.

‘That wasn’t a yes,’ Draco said.

Father Christmas shrugged. ‘Sometimes people ask for impossible things. What is it that you want?’

‘So you can go back to my father and tell him what I want,’ Draco suggested, his tone belligerent now. ‘Surely, if you really are Father Christmas you should know what I want, shouldn’t you?’

‘I’m not a mind reader and you haven’t written me a letter this year so unless you tell me I won’t know what to give you,’ Father Christmas pointed out reasonably. ‘So come on, tell me what you want for Christmas.’

Draco glanced around him, vaguely noticing Granger who was studying a star chart in a glass case beyond the table next to where he was standing as he considered what to say. He honestly didn’t believe that the man standing in front of him was the real Father Christmas — if he even existed. But there was one way to get the man to leave him alone.

‘I want her,’ he said and pointed towards Hermione.

Father Christmas followed the direction of his finger, a frown appearing on his face for the first time.

‘That’s not possible, I’m afraid. You’ll have to choose something else.’

‘I said you were a fraud,’ Draco crowed triumphantly.

Father Christmas shook his head. ‘I am the real Father Christmas, whether you want to believe it or not, but I can’t grant you that wish, Draco. I’m sorry, but people can’t be given as presents. It doesn’t work like that.’

Draco folded his arms. ‘Well there isn’t anything else I want, so you’re wasting your time. Go and bother someone else.’

‘If you really want to become acquainted with the lovely Miss Granger you should just go and talk to her and get to know her better. Hermione’s a nice girl,’ Father Christmas advised.

‘That isn’t possible,’ Draco replied stiffly. ‘It’s too difficult to explain why, but it will never happen.’

‘Perhaps you should take a chance, Draco. Miracles happen at Christmas, you know.’

Draco shook his head.  ‘Not to me. As I said, it’s not possible . . . unless you get her for me. But you’ve already ruled that out.’  

‘Because I can’t get her for you. People are not objects to be given away as presents. But I don’t understand why you don’t want to talk to her.’ Father Christmas frowned again.

‘I _can’t_ talk to her,’ Draco said. ‘And if you really were Father Christmas you’d know why. But as I said before you’re not the real thing, you’re just a fraud. Now leave me alone otherwise I’m going to report you to a shop assistant for harassment.’ He turned away as if preparing to walk off.

‘You know best, of course,’ Father Christmas said mildly.

Draco turned back to respond but the jolly old man in the red suit had disappeared.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Draco glanced at the piles of presents around the Christmas tree, a feeling of disappointment leaching through him although he had no idea why. It wasn’t as if he had really believed the old man in Wiseacre’s was Father Christmas, and of course Hermione Granger wasn’t going to be waiting for him under the tree. But for some reason he was feeling disgruntled and definitely not in the mood for all the Christmas nonsense his parents were going to foist on him later.

He wandered through to the dining room and helped himself to some breakfast. As he poured a cup of tea he looked out of the window, staring across the snowy expanse of lawn and at the big fat flakes that were still falling. Even if Father Christmas could get through the wards set on the Manor he would have been hard pushed to navigate with the amount of snow that had built up overnight.

‘It was a real blizzard out there last night,’ Lucius said, noticing where his son was looking. ‘Several inches, with more to come today. I understand there have been some major problems on the Muggle roads.’

‘Nasty weather. I feel sorry for the poor people who have to go out in it,’ Narcissa replied.

‘I was thinking of going out for a walk,’ Draco said. Narcissa looked at him in surprise. He shrugged. ‘I’m feeling cooped up in here and it’s making me bad-tempered.’

‘I don’t think it’s sensible to go outside at the moment, Draco,’ Narcissa told him.

Lucius snorted. ‘When does the boy _ever_ do what’s sensible, Cissy? I don’t suppose he cares how dangerous it is out there.’

‘I wasn’t intending to go far,’ Draco said mulishly. ‘I just want to get some fresh air.’

‘Please, Lucius, talk to him,’ Narcissa pleaded.

Lucius stared at his son. Seeing the angry expression on Draco’s face he sighed and said, ‘Wrap up well and just make sure you don’t do anything stupid. If it gets any worse you’re to come straight back. We don’t want anything happening to you, nor do we want to have to send out a search party on Christmas Day.’

‘I’ll be fine,’ Draco assured them as he put his napkin on his plate and stood up. ‘I probably won’t be out there that long anyway.’

As he reached the entrance hall Draco called for a house-elf to bring him his cloak, then having wrapped himself up warmly, he opened the front door and went outside, shivering as the icy cold blast of the snowy air hit him. He knew that if he was sensible he should just go straight back inside and forget all about going out, but his mood was still dark and he had to hope that walking would do some good. At least it was quiet, the thick blanket of snow muffling almost all the sound, and with the weather still so inclement it was unlikely that there would be many people around.

Once he had started walking and adapted to the freezing temperature Draco realised he was enjoying the cold, wint ~~e~~ ry morning. The freshness was enough to blast away his bad mood and there was a certain delight in being the first person to walk through the virgin snow that covered the ground. He wandered in a meandering fashion down towards the gate, then left the grounds of Malfoy Manor, heading down the lane with no particular destination in mind.

Draco had been walking for about half an hour when he began to see signs of how the blizzard had affected Muggles in the area. The snow had come down so heavily that it had blocked the roads, leaving them with no choice but to abandon their cars and trek to the village and their homes on foot. He walked towards them, ignoring the weather that was worsening around him. He didn’t want to go back to the house just yet even if the amount of snow now falling was making visibility extremely difficult.

As he wandered down the deserted lane, Draco thought he caught sight of movement from one of the cars quite some way ahead of him. At first, he told himself that it was just the snow and the dodgy light playing tricks with his eyes. Surely there was no one else mad enough to be out and about in this weather. But all the same, he became more watchful in case of a problem.

A few minutes later, he could make out the definite shape of a figure coming towards him through the snowstorm. Draco’s hand went automatically to the wand in his pocket but then he remembered that it was likely to be a Muggle and even in a situation like this the Ministry of Magic wouldn’t accept him breaking either the International Statute of Secrecy or the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery.

Draco debated whether to turn round and walk back towards Malfoy Manor. He had been out for quite some time now and was beginning to feel cold, and no doubt his parents would be wondering where he had got to. But then the thought hit him that the person ahead might need some help, although he wasn’t sure what he would be able to do except point them in the direction of the village.

For a moment his brain tried to tell him that the person coming towards him was probably dangerous and might even be some criminal using the heavy snowfall as cover while he robbed people’s deserted cars; after all no one but a ne’er do well would be out and about this far from the village in this weather, so he should leave before they spotted him and tried to shut him up. Draco silently scoffed at himself for the lurid thought. He was being as melodramatic as the weather was. The truth was that it was probably just someone from the village who had come to get something out of their car.

But it was hard to imagine what someone would need to retrieve so badly that would see them walking all the way out here when the weather was this dreadful, so that meant it was likely that the person wasn’t a local; was maybe someone trapped and needing assistance. Despite his reputation as a selfish boy, Draco couldn’t help but feel sorry for anyone who was struggling with the current weather.

Keeping a tight grip of his wand, but keeping it in his pocket still, Draco walked towards the shadowy figure.

‘Are you okay?’ he asked, hoping his voice hadn’t been carried away by the strong wind that was now accompanying the never-ending snow. ‘Is there anything I can do to help?’

‘Is this the right way to the village? I think there’s one around here somewhere, isn’t there? I’m hoping I can find some help to dig us out . . . or somewhere to stay until the blizzard ends.’

Draco started, recognising the desperate-sounding voice. He stared in astonishment as a bundled up Hermione Granger loomed out of the snow in front of him.

‘Granger?’

His mind was whirring, trying to understand why Hermione would be in this out of the way lane in the middle of Wiltshire on Christmas morning and completely failing.

‘Malfoy?’

Hermione sounded equally stunned as she realised who she was talking to.

‘What are you doing here?’ Draco asked.

‘We were on our way to my aunt and uncle’s house. We were supposed to be spending Christmas with them but we got caught in the storm. It was so bad that we couldn’t continue, so we had to pull over. But then the snow didn’t stop so now we’re snowed in.’

‘We?’ Draco asked. Then, ‘Do your relatives live close by then?’

‘My parents are in the car. They’re already freezing because of spending the night in there so I told them to stay wrapped up while I went for help. My relatives live miles away, far too far for us to get to, especially on foot, but I saw on the map that there was a village close by.’

‘It’s still a couple of miles away,’ Draco said. ‘And everything will be closed because it’s Christmas Day. I doubt you’ll get much help.’

‘Even if they just give us some food and blankets or something it would help,’ Hermione said sounding miserable. ‘We’ve got nothing apart from a car blanket, but that’s not doing much to keep Mum and Dad warm. There’s no heat or anything. Even the mince pies and tea that Mum brought for the journey are long gone and I’m worried about how cold they are. We’ve put on all the spare jumpers we brought with us, but we daren’t put the heater on in case we run out of petrol or get overwhelmed by fumes.’

‘Which one’s your car?’ Draco asked.

Hermione pointed back down the lane. ‘It’s about four or five cars back down that way. Once we saw all the other abandoned vehicles along here we knew we had no choice but to stop.’ Looking anxious, she added, ‘Can you help me please, Draco? I know we’ve had our differences over the years, but I’m begging you to help my parents. I’m worried about them because they’re so cold.’

Draco considered the lengthy walk to the village and how long it had already taken him. With the current weather, which wasn’t showing any sign of letting up, it would probably take at least an hour or so for them to get there and then there was no certainty that they would be able to get anyone to help them once they arrived. And even if they did then they would need to walk back to the car, another drawn-out journey because of the weather.

It would be much quicker if he took Hermione and her family back to Malfoy Manor, but Draco realised that this would create a separate set of problems. First and foremost, there was the issue of Hermione’s parents being Muggles. His father was a Death Eater and was violently opposed to both Muggles and their magical offspring, so the sight of both landing on his doorstep wouldn’t make Draco very popular. It didn’t help that his father unfortunately already knew Hermione; she had been outperforming Draco in lessons at Hogwarts for years, and add to that the fact that she was a close friend of Harry Potter . . . .

But Draco knew he couldn’t leave the family to fend for themselves in such dreadful weather, especially when they had already been stuck here all night and were surely close to freezing to death. There really was no other sensible option. Anyway, he needed to return home as he had promised his father he wouldn’t stay out if the weather worsened and he had ignored that for too long, so he was likely to be in trouble anyway. Uneasily, Draco considered that it was possible that by taking Hermione and her parents back to the Manor he would be signing their death warrants. But it was Christmas Day and surely even his father wasn’t that sadistic, was he?

‘Let’s get your parents and you can all come with me back to Malfoy Manor,’ Draco said.

Hermione stared at him warily for a moment. ‘Go to your house? I don’t think your parents will be very happy about that, will they?’

Draco shrugged. ‘Maybe not, but being serious there’s no way you can get to the village and back in less than two hours, and that’s assuming the weather doesn’t get any worse and you don’t get lost. At least if you come with me you’ll all be warm within an hour, and it’s not like we haven’t got the space to accommodate you.’

‘If you’re sure?’ Hermione’s tone sounded almost pleading.

‘Absolutely,’ Draco said. ‘Let’s go and get your parents and get going before this weather gets any worse.’

‘Thank you, Draco.’

Hermione smiled at him and Draco felt his heart race. He walked past her, heading towards her car. Hermione turned around and followed him, indicating where the car was parked, hardly visible in the bad light.

‘You’re not exactly dressed for this weather, are you?’ Draco observed as they walked. He had noticed that although Hermione was wearing a hat and scarf, her coat didn’t seem particularly thick and she was wearing a dress and shoes more suitable for a party than a long walk in the snow.

‘Well, I didn’t expect to be doing this, did I?’ Hermione pointed out tersely. ‘We were going to a party and I was expecting to walk the fifty yards or so up my aunt and uncle’s drive, not have to trek through the British equivalent of Siberia. The weather forecast didn’t say anything about blizzards of this magnitude.’

‘You must be absolutely freezing.’

‘I think I lost all feeling in my legs sometime last night,’ Hermione admitted. ‘These tights aren’t very warm and my feet feel like blocks of ice where they’ve got wet so many times. I’m just glad I didn’t decide to wear heels.’

‘Haven’t you got your wand with you?’ Draco asked.

‘Why would I need my wand?’ Hermione sounded confused. ‘I was going to spend Christmas with a bunch of Muggles. I had no need for it . . . unfortunately.’

‘I can’t believe you haven’t got frostbite,’ Draco said. He pulled his wand from his pocket and pointed it towards Hermione’s feet, which were buried over ankle deep beneath the snow, and cast a warming charm. ‘That should help a bit.’

‘Thank you!’ Hermione said gratefully as warmth flooded through her feet and up her legs. ‘Can you do something similar for my parents?’

They had finally reached Hermione’s car and she pulled open the back door and peered inside where her parents were huddled under the thin car blanket.

‘How are you doing?’ she asked anxiously.

‘We’re okay,’ her father answered although he sounded cold. ‘Did you find the village?’

‘No, I found a friend from school who lives in the area,’ Hermione explained. ‘He’s going to take us back to his house. Hopefully we’ll be able to wait there, at least until the snow stops.’

‘A friend from school?’ Hermione’s mother queried.

‘His name’s Draco Malfoy. He’s got his wand with him so he’s going to cast a warming spell on you both.’

‘It’s still quite a walk,’ Draco warned them as Hermione moved back to give him access to the car, ‘but this should help a bit.’

Five minutes later the quartet were making their way slowly down the lane in the direction of the gates to Malfoy Manor. Draco noted that Hermione’s parents weren’t any better prepared for the snow than their daughter was.

‘I can’t believe you haven’t got any thicker clothes,’ he said as they walked.

‘We weren’t expecting this much snow,’ Hermione’s father said. ‘The weather forecast said a few flurries, but no one was forecasting this — freak weather they’re calling it on the radio.’ He looked guiltily at Hermione as she shot him a sharp look.

‘You weren’t supposed to be turning the engine on,’ she chided.

‘We just wanted to know what was going on,’ her mother said.  ‘It was very isolating being trapped in there. And we wanted to warm up a bit.’

‘It’s lucky I didn’t have to go all the way to the village and back otherwise I’d probably have found you both dead from carbon monoxide fumes,’ Hermione said tartly.

‘They were just trying to keep warm, Hermione. And they’re both fine so stop worrying about it,’ Draco said soothingly.   

‘It was a stupid thing to do,’ Hermione grumbled.

‘But understandable all the same. Come on, let’s get going before the weather gets any worse.’

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Draco could feel a knot of anxiety building in his stomach the closer they got to Malfoy Manor. Having spent the last three-quarters of an hour talking with Hermione’s mother and father, he had come to the conclusion that he quite liked them and was desperately hoping his parents weren’t going to react badly to their arrival.

It was good to get out of the biting wind and the raging blizzard, even if it was just to stand in the shelter of the doorway. Draco rang the doorbell, then realised from the expressions of surprise on Mr and Mrs Granger’s faces that he should have mentioned about house-elves before one came to open the front door.

‘Don’t worry, it’s just a house-elf,’ Hermione said as her parents looked at the creature dressed in a tea towel in astonishment. ‘I’ve told you about them before. They work in the kitchens at Hogwarts and some wizarding families keep them as servants.’ Her tone of voice made it quite clear that she didn’t agree with the tradition.

‘Come on in and get warm,’ Draco told them as the elf stepped back to allow them entrance. ‘Rolkey, can you get tea for us, please? We’ll take it in the drawing room.’

The house-elf waited while they removed their coats, then Disapparated with a pop. Draco gestured towards a large room off the hallway trying to ignore the sight of Hermione and her parents staring around the entrance hall as if they were visitors to a stately home.

‘If you want to come through,’ Draco began.

‘Ah, Draco, I thought I heard your voice. I’m glad you’re finally back. It’s got much worse ou—’ Narcissa Malfoy appeared in the doorway of the room Draco was pointing towards, her words ceasing abruptly as she saw the Grangers.

‘This is Hermione and her parents,’ Draco said rapidly, hurrying towards his mother. ‘Hermione’s in my year at school. They got trapped in the snowstorm and were freezing to death out there so I said they could come back here.’ He broke off for a moment, looking pleadingly at his mother. ‘I thought it would be okay as we’ve got plenty of space, and it was much quicker than trying to get to the village — it’s terrible out there. They’ve been stuck in the car all night.’

Narcissa surveyed the visitors icily as Draco silently prayed that she wouldn’t say anything derogatory about their blood status. If his mother accepted them into the house then his father would go along with it just to keep the peace, but there was no certainty that she would allow them to stay. Draco felt his heart sink at the thought of having to turn them back out into the snow.

‘Please,’ he said quietly.

Narcissa stared at him for a moment without saying anything, then turned her gaze once again upon the visitors who were busy removing the extra jumpers they had bundled themselves up in, in an effort to keep warm, but were no longer required. 

‘It wouldn’t be very charitable to reject your friends, particularly after they’ve been through such hardship already,’ Narcissa said. She smiled albeit a touch coolly. ‘Welcome to Malfoy Manor. Please go through to the drawing room. There’s a decent fire in there which should soon warm you up.’

Draco smiled at his mother, his heartbeat returning to its normal rhythm. He took the extra clothes from the Grangers as Mr Granger hurried forward. Narcissa looked slightly taken aback as he grabbed her hand and shook it spiritedly.

‘Thank you so much for your kindness and hospitality, Mrs Malfoy. My name’s David Granger and this is my wife, Maureen. You may already know our daughter, Hermione.’

Narcissa’s eyes narrowed slightly and she stared down her nose at Hermione as she disentangled her hand from David’s. ‘I believe Draco may have mentioned her previously.’

‘Thank you for allowing us to stay,’ Hermione said, thinking she should say something. ‘Your Christmas tree is very beautiful.’ She indicated the tall tree that stood next to the stairs, twinkling with hundreds of tiny white lights.

Narcissa gave a brief nod in acknowledgement of the compliment. ‘There’s a better one in there,’ she said pointing towards the drawing room. ‘Draco, perhaps you want to take your guests through and get them settled. I need to have a quick word with the house-elves.’

‘I’m sorry if we’ve caused you any inconvenience,’ Maureen said. She was looking at Narcissa with something like awe. ‘I wonder if it’s possible to freshen up first?’

‘It’s no bother. It’ll make a nice change for Draco not to be stuck with just his parents on Christmas Day,’ Narcissa assured them. She looked at her son. ‘Draco can you take your guests upstairs and get them sorted out with regards to the loo and whatever, then take them into the drawing room?’

Draco nodded.

To the room in general Narcissa added, ‘Now, if you’ll excuse me—’

She walked regally across the entrance hall and into a corridor, heading for the kitchen.

‘Your mother is so graceful,’ Maureen told Draco. ‘It was kind of her to take us in at such short notice.’

‘As I said, we’ve got plenty of space. Let’s go upstairs and you can wash up or whatever you want to do. Then we’ll have some tea. My father will probably be in the drawing room so I can introduce you to him,’ Draco answered, wondering why his father hadn’t already made an appearance. He must have heard the conversation going on out here.

‘This isn’t going to cause you a problem, is it?’ Hermione asked quietly as they climbed the stairs.

‘I don’t think so. My father won’t say anything because my mother’s agreed to you being here and it would be bad form to contradict her, especially in front of guests. I’m not sure how they’ll cope though. I don’t think either of them have ever really spoken to a Muggle before.’

‘They’re just normal people, not a completely different species,’ Hermione hissed. ‘You’ve talked to them and didn’t have a problem.’

‘Yes, but you know my father’s views. Having said that, he’ll probably pretty much ignore them anyway.’

‘That’s a bit rude. Especially as it’s only natural that my parents will want to make conversation with yours. They’re hardly going to stay silent the whole time they’re here. I know they’re a bit overwhelmed at the moment because they’re cold and tired, and the house is really magnificent; so much grander than anything we’re used to. But once they’ve warmed up a bit they’ll be keen to find out more about your family and thank them again for their kindness. Oh, and by the way, if they mention Harry or Ron don’t act with your usual disdain and hatred. I don’t want them to realise that we’re not friends or they’ll feel even more uncomfortable.’

‘Do you feel uncomfortable?’ Draco asked.

Hermione stared at him for a moment. ‘Of course I do. I already know what you and your family think of me. Do you honestly think I would have come here if we’d had any other choice?’ She saw him scowl and added, ‘I’m really grateful to you for helping us but I’m not saying anything you don’t already know, Draco. Let’s face it, if we hadn’t been so badly trapped you would never have invited us back here, would you?’

‘No, I suppose not,’ Draco admitted.

For a moment his thoughts drifted to the old man playing Father Christmas that he had spoken to in Wiseacre’s, remembering his request that Father Christmas give Hermione to him as a Christmas present. Surely it wasn’t possible that the man really was Father Christmas and he had somehow given Draco exactly what he wanted, was it? No, that was ridiculous. Anyway, the man had told him that people couldn’t be treated as objects and given as gifts.

But despite what the man had told him, fate had conspired to bring Hermione to him on Christmas Day and Draco knew he had to make the most of the opportunity. Normally he wouldn’t dare show the slightest iota of interest in her in case his father used it against her, but with the advent of the awful weather and the Grangers’ badly timed excursion, the perfect opportunity had presented itself to give Draco a chance to better get to know the girl he had spent far more time than he liked to admit to thinking about, and for her to see him as more than just an adversary, without her friends’ or his parents’ noxious views getting in the way. 

He wasn’t sure why but Hermione’s reminder about them not being friends annoyed him, particularly as they had been getting on so well for the last hour or so. But it wasn’t unreasonable for Hermione to be concerned about how she and her parents would be treated by his family, especially as he knew how difficult they could be with anyone different to themselves and when his own behaviour hadn’t been particularly reasonable in the past.

It had been easy to forget too, until she had mentioned them, the two wizards who made his life a misery at every opportunity and stopped him from becoming closer to the girl at his side. But that wasn’t entirely fair either. While he had never got on with Weasley and Potter they weren’t the ones stopping him where Hermione was concerned, not really. That was all down to her blood status and his concern about what his parents would do if they discovered that he was interested in her in any way.

The man who may or may not have been Father Christmas had suggested Draco talk to Hermione to get to know her better and he knew the advice was sound. And with any luck the Grangers would give his parents the chance to see that there wasn’t much difference between themselves and Muggles, might make them understand that their long-held prejudices weren’t necessarily right. It was a long shot, but it might happen — as Father Christmas had also said, miracles happened at Christmas.

‘I’m glad you’re here,’ Draco told Hermione. ‘And I’m even more glad that I decided to go for a walk and found you before you all froze to death.’ He pointed to a door. ‘That’s a bathroom if anyone wants to use it.’

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Draco was surprised at how well his parents had responded to the Muggle family that had been so unceremoniously dumped on them. Instead of ignoring them, or treating them with thinly veiled disdain as he, and no doubt Hermione, had expected, both his parents had made an effort to be pleasant, presumably understanding that with the Grangers unable to leave until the snow stopped and their car was freed, they had no choice but to make the best of an awkward situation.

His father had initially been cool but polite with the family when they had joined him in the drawing room although he had berated Draco at length for the two Howlers from the Ministry of Magic, which had turned up within minutes of each other, regarding his use of magic on Hermione and her parents. Draco had been embarrassed at the public dressing down, although his father calmed somewhat after Draco had explained why he had done it — reiterating with Hermione’s backing that he had been saving their lives.

Unfortunately, the atmosphere in the room felt more than a little uncomfortable and he was certain Hermione’s family were wishing they were anywhere else but there. But when the promised tea arrived and then Draco’s mother returned along with an assortment of mince pies and Christmas biscuits and a steaming cauldron of mulled wine, the Grangers finally began to relax and so did Draco.

He had assumed his parents would be eager to get rid of their unwanted guests as soon as possible, especially as the blizzard had died down fairly shortly after their arrival at the manor and had stopped completely by the time lunch was served. But to his surprise, Draco’s mother arranged for the Grangers to be given rooms so they could both freshen up before lunch and stay for the night, and it was made clear that they were more than welcome at the Christmas dinner table.

The meal was exceptional, which was no different from every other year, but Draco had enjoyed it so much more with Hermione and her family there and was excited for them to see the exquisitely decorated dining room with all the lights and fine china and the glistening crystal and silver tableware that showcased the magnificent food. Unused to the magic that infused every facet of the Malfoys’ home the Grangers were enchanted by their hosts’ decorations, and Draco knew his parents were pleased with all the compliments they received.

There was an interesting discussion comparing the differences in the ways that each family celebrated Christmas, with the Muggle family sharing their traditions which seemed far more relaxed and inclusive than those which Draco had always shared with his parents. But their attendance at the table had brought a change, which Draco was eager to take advantage of.

Lunch was lively, with lots of laughter, something else that was a rarity during the Malfoys’ usual interactions over the festive table. David turned out to be something of a comedian who had a wealth of terrible jokes up his sleeve. Maureen looked faintly embarrassed and Hermione groaned and clasped her hands over her face, shaking her head in anguish as her father proceeded to unleash them, but the audience of wizards received them in the spirit in which they were meant, and it added a jolly feel to the celebrations.

Strangely, it turned out that the Grangers’ profession, dentistry, was far more interesting than Draco had always thought, or at least his father certainly seemed to think so. Once the meal was over and they returned to the drawing room, his father and David spent quite some time sipping cognac while discussing it in detail, after Lucius gave a smoothly simplistic answer to what he spent his time doing.

His mother and Maureen had hit it off too, assisted by the stunning dress that Hermione’s mother had chosen to wear for the party they had been on their way to. While Lucius escorted David on a tour of the house, the mothers disappeared upstairs to Narcissa’s rooms to check out her wardrobe and look at the bedrooms that had been allocated to the Grangers for their stay.

Draco suddenly found himself alone with Hermione and feeling somewhat unsure of himself. She had been right when she had said they had never been friends, and although he had interfered in her and her friends’ lives several times over the years, he had to admit that he didn’t really know very much about her other than that she was Muggle-born, was extremely good at magic, and was probably the most beautiful girl he had ever met.

Hermione was looking at the Christmas tree, studying the array of ornaments, and Draco was watching her, thinking how pretty she looked in her party dress. He remembered his thoughts of the morning when he had looked at the presents under the tree and the disappointment he had felt at the time. Yet only a few short hours later a miracle had happened and Hermione was here, spending Christmas with him rather than with those dolts that she spent most of her time with.

As his thoughts returned to the Father Christmas in Wiseacre’s, Draco found himself wondering once more what Hermione’s request had been for. Somehow, despite his refusal to believe, Draco had almost got what he had asked for — at least the opportunity to speak to Hermione was now available to him — but he wasn’t sure how to broach the conversation and the longer the silence continued between them, the more difficult it became.

Hermione finally turned away from the tree and sat down on the sofa nearest to it, across the room from Draco.

‘Your tree is beautiful,’ she said. ‘And you’ve got so many presents under there still. Don’t you open them in the morning?’

‘No, we usually open them after lunch. But as my parents are currently showing off the house to yours, it’ll probably be nearer teatime now.’

‘They’re getting on much better than I expected,’ Hermione said.

‘I know. It’s quite surprising, isn’t it? I honestly didn’t think my parents would be so friendly. But as I said, they’ve never actually talked to any Muggles before so it was probably easy to see them as being completely foreign. Your parents have proved that they’re no different to anyone else we know, except for not having any magic. It’s actually been really useful, I think.’

‘I’m hoping my parents don’t remember that it was your father that kicked off in Flourish and Blotts that time,’ Hermione said. ‘He absolutely terrified them because they’d only been to Diagon Alley once before, so they were just getting used to the wizarding world. They had no idea that Muggles were so unpopular with some wizards.’

‘That wasn’t all my father’s fault,’ Draco said, bristling with indignation.

‘He certainly started it. And he planted that diary of You-Know-Who’s in Ginny’s cauldron,’ Hermione reminded him.

Draco had the grace to look ashamed. ‘You’re right. He was to blame. Hopefully they won’t remember.’ There was silence for a few minutes then he asked, ‘So what are Potter and Weasley doing? Did they stay at school as usual?’

Hermione shook her head. ‘No, they’re at the Burrow. Mum and Dad are going skiing in France next week so I’m going to go and join them for New Year. It should be fun. ‘ She paused for a moment. ‘Are you doing anything for New Year?’

‘We’re having a party,’ Draco said, not hiding his disinterest. ‘We hold it every year. Everyone who’s anyone comes to it.’ Hermione gave him a sharp look and he realised that he had inadvertently belittled her. ‘Sorry. I just mean that we get all the top bods that my father deals with at the Ministry and St Mungo’s coming along.  The Minister for Magic always turns up, which is as much of a pleasure as you can imagine it is.’

‘I’ve always thought he seemed a bit of an idiot,’ Hermione replied honestly.

‘He’s a complete dickhead. But he’s also the most influential man in the wizarding world, so no one’s going to stop him from attending.’

Their wellspring of conversation seemingly having run dry, the two of them sat quietly for several more minutes while Draco tried desperately to find something to talk about. His eyes alighted on the chess set in the corner.

‘Do you play chess?’ he asked hopefully.

‘Not really,’ Hermione admitted wrinkling her nose. ‘Ron’s tried to teach me but I don’t like all the violence. I find it a bit distasteful, to be honest.’

Draco looked confused for a moment then realised what she was talking about. He indicated in the direction of the board. ‘I don’t play Wizard Chess, Hermione. We’ve got an old Muggle set which we’ve had since the sixteenth century. Rumour has it that it was given as a gift to an ancestor by one of Henry the Eighth’s wives, Katherine Parr.’

‘I’m not a very good player,’ Hermione warned him.

‘That’s okay, I can teach you,’ Draco said.

Hermione shrugged. ‘We haven’t got anything better to do so why not?’ She stood up and walked over to the table where the antique chess set was waiting.

‘Do you want a drink? I can ask a house-elf for some more mulled wine,’ Draco said when he joined her.

‘No, I’m all right, thank you, Draco. I don’t want to drink too much. The champagne during lunch was enough to make my head spin.’

‘You can be White,’ Draco said as they sat down. He turned the board around so the black pieces were closest to him. ‘You go first.’

Hermione grinned. ‘I do know that much.’

‘Good. Let’s see how much you know.’

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Everyone was back in the drawing room, and the house-elves had provided sandwiches and cakes in case anyone wasn’t completely stuffed from the massive lunch that had been served only a few hours previously. Draco and Hermione had finished their game of chess, with Draco winning, but the game had been much closer than he had expected as Hermione was a far better player than she had indicated. They were sitting on the rug by the open fireplace chatting quietly, much easier in each other’s company than had been the case earlier.

‘I suppose the time has finally come to open the Christmas presents,’ Lucius announced after he had poured everyone another drink. He turned to the Grangers who were sitting on one of the sofas. ‘I’m sorry that you’re going to have to sit and watch us open this obscene amount of gifts without anything for yourselves, but it’s not really fair on Draco to make him wait any longer.’

‘I completely understand, Lucius,’ David said. ‘We do actually have some presents but they’re in the boot of the car. We were expecting to open them at my sister’s house this morning.’

‘They’re in your car? Well let’s go and get them,’ Lucius replied.

Draco looked at his father in astonishment. Surely he wasn’t suggesting that he would go, was he?

‘Do you think that’s wise, dear?’ Narcissa asked cautiously. ‘I know the snow’s stopped but it will still be treacherous out there, and cold too.’ She looked at Draco. ‘How far away did you say the car was, Draco?’

Draco shrugged. ‘Probably about forty minutes’ walk each way with this snow.’

‘We could Apparate,’ Lucius suggested.

‘Or we could send a house-elf,’ Narcissa retorted.

‘We could do that.’ Lucius looked surprisingly disappointed but then rallied. ‘While it would no doubt be less trouble, they’re not going to know which car belongs to David, are they, so Apparition is still the best idea. It’ll only take us a couple of minutes, Cissy.’

‘My parents have never tried Apparition and I understand that Side-Along is definitely an acquired skill,’ Hermione pointed out.

‘I know where your car is,’ Draco interjected. ‘Father and I can Apparate there and get the presents and be back in a few minutes. What do you think?’ He looked at Hermione, seeking her approval.

‘Are you sure it’s not too much trouble, Lucius?’ David asked sounding concerned.

Lucius smiled. ‘Absolutely not, David. That’s the great thing about magic. It makes everything so much easier. If you’re happy for us to go and get them then everyone can have presents.’

‘Brilliant.’ David dug in his pocket and pulled out the car keys. He handed them to Lucius, showing him how to use the key fob to open and lock the boot.

‘You still need to wrap up warmly,’ Narcissa reminded them.

‘Don’t worry, we will,’ Lucius said trying not to roll his eyes. ‘We’ll see you shortly. Come on, Draco.’

Draco jumped up from the floor and joined his father, who was already calling for a house-elf as he left the room. The remaining inhabitants looked at each other, seeming not to know what to do next.

‘So what is this Apparition?’ David asked.

Hermione explained the basics to her parents, who seemed as interested and uneasy as they always were about anything to do with magic, and took the opportunity to mention that she would be having lessons to learn how to do it on her return to school in the new year. Narcissa then confided that she wasn’t a fan of Apparition and used it only when she had no other choice. This opened the conversation up to other types of magical transport, with Hermione and Narcissa eventually both agreeing that using the Floo system was the most stable and least nausea-inducing of the methods available. 

By the time they finished discussing it, Lucius and Draco had returned carrying several large decorative bags full of presents. Draco was also carrying a small suitcase.

‘I thought you might want this too,’ he said as Maureen thanked him profusely. She started rummaging in one of the present bags as David took the case from Draco and took it upstairs to the room he and his wife had been allocated.

Narcissa and Lucius took their places by the tree as Draco re-joined Hermione on the floor by the fire.

‘It’s absolutely bloody freezing out there,’ he told her, rubbing his hands together in front of the fire to warm them. ‘It’s still blocked too. You’re definitely not going anywhere tonight. But it hasn’t snowed for several hours now so at least it's not going to get any worse, although it might freeze. We’ll have a look at what it’s like in the morning. Maybe the house-elves will be able to help dig you out.’

‘Here you are, Draco,’ Narcissa said as she passed a large, beautifully wrapped box to her son. He looked at it for a moment before putting it down on the floor between him and Hermione, then turned back to collect the next gift that was already being sent his way.

‘Here’s one for you, Hermione,’ Maureen said as she handed her daughter a squashy parcel wrapped in brightly coloured paper with snowmen on it. Hermione smiled as she looked at the label which identified it as being from Mr and Mrs Weasley.

‘You did well from Father Christmas,’ Hermione said once all the gifts had been distributed and were in the process of being unwrapped, indicating the massive pile of presents and discarded paper that dwarfed her own small stack.

Draco guffawed. ‘I saw you talking to him in Wiseacre’s. Did he get you what you asked for, or did he turn out to be a fake?’

Hermione studied him for a moment, her expression somewhat wistful. ‘I’m really not sure yet,’ she said eventually. ‘But he was definitely the real Father Christmas. Didn’t you speak to him?’

Draco shrugged. ‘I did, briefly. But he wasn’t a lot of use, and unlike you I’m not so gullible about anthropomorphic personifications, so I wasn’t expecting him to provide me with anything.’

‘Well, what did you ask him for?’ Hermione asked.

Draco stared at her, uncertain of what to say. The truth was that he really had got exactly what he had asked for, although maybe not in the way he had meant it. But then to be fair to Father Christmas he hadn’t exactly specified what he wanted Hermione to do once she was given to him. He suspected that a request of that nature would have been knocked back even quicker than his original request had been.

‘Erm, I think I probably got it,’ Draco said quickly, averting his gaze from Hermione to look instead at his presents. He chose one that was wrapped and shook it, trying to ignore the fact that Hermione was still watching him intently. He started to unwrap the gift, trying not to feel disappointed when it turned out to be a stack of notebooks.

‘So what did you ask for, then?’ he enquired once he was certain Hermione was focussed on her presents rather than on him.

Hermione appeared to ignore him, but Draco noticed that her cheeks had suddenly gone rather pink. She finished unwrapping what turned out to be a large box of chocolates, then slowly began folding the paper, still not looking at Draco.

‘Well?’ he asked, his interest now definitely piqued by Hermione’s embarrassment.

‘You never told me what you asked for,’ Hermione said. She was suddenly staring at him again as if she would be able to draw it out of him.

‘Oh, it wasn’t anything important,’ Draco said dismissively. ‘I just suggested something I knew he wouldn’t be able to give me to prove he was a fake.’

‘But he wasn’t a fake, he really was Father Christmas,’ Hermione insisted.

She looked away from Draco and picked up a small package, studying the label for a moment before looking at it again, making no effort to unwrap it. Draco was about to say something to her when Hermione scratched at the tape and pulled off the paper revealing the small black box inside. Once again she stared at it. He glanced down at the discarded paper and saw Weasley’s name on the label. He looked back at Hermione, taking in her suddenly nervous expression, and wondered what she was expecting to find inside the box.

‘Are you going to open that or just look at it all night?’ Draco asked, feeling slightly annoyed although he was unsure why.  

Hermione took a deep breath as if steeling herself, then opened the box. She stared at the contents. Draco realised she had tears in her eyes. He wondered what on earth Weasley had given her that had made her cry. He looked at the box again. It was the perfect size for a ring. A hollow feeling appeared in his stomach. Had Weasley given her an engagement ring?  Was that what Hermione had been waiting for? Was it the present she had asked Father Christmas to bring her?

‘What is it?’ he asked, unable to keep silent any longer.

Hermione closed the box and dropped it onto the discarded wrapping paper, one hand moving to wipe her eyes.

‘It’s nothing,’ she said sounding disappointed.

‘So Father Christmas _didn’t_ bring your present?’ Draco asked, trying to keep the sneer from breaking through.

Hermione wiped her eyes again and shook her head. ‘It doesn’t seem like it,’ she replied unhappily.

‘Told you he was a fraud.’ Draco sounded smug, unable to stop being argumentative despite the fact that he was now pretty sure that Father Christmas was who he had said he was.

‘He honestly wasn’t, but I think I asked for something impossible,’ Hermione said.

Draco held out another present. ‘You missed one.’

Hermione took it from him, but it was clear that whatever Weasley had given her had dulled her enjoyment of Christmas and presents. She dropped the unwrapped book on the floor without even bothering to look at the title of it.

‘Perhaps it’s something that you’ll get later,’ Draco suggested gently, both trying to cheer Hermione up and thinking about her upcoming visit to the Burrow. ‘After all, Father Christmas didn’t know you were going to be trapped in your car and have to spend the day here, did he?’

‘But all the presents are here,’ Hermione pointed out.

She started to clear up the used wrapping paper, folding it and putting it in a pile before piling the discarded bows and ribbon on top, then she stacked her presents. Draco noticed that Weasley’s present wasn’t among them. He finished collecting up his own paper then picked up the small box that was now lying on its own in the middle of the rug. He went to give it to Hermione, but she had already stood up, carrying the paper and the other gifts. Before Draco could say anything she walked over to her parents, dumping the presents unceremoniously in one of the decorative bags and adding the paper to the rubbish pile that was in front of the tree.

Draco knew he had no right to look at Hermione’s present but curiosity was gnawing away at him. He had to know what Weasley had bought that had upset the beautiful girl so much. He looked around to check that no one was watching him — Hermione was now deep in conversation with her parents — and opened the lid of the box. He stared at the contents in confusion, not understanding what he was seeing.

No wonder Hermione was disappointed if she really had been expecting Weasley to give her a ring. The boy had completely mucked up and Draco didn’t think Hermione would forgive him easily. At that realisation his heart soared, understanding that Weasley’s error had given him a chance that had never existed previously. Although Hermione had obviously thought there was a romantic relationship between them, the redhead’s gift had shown that to be a lie.

But that meant that to all intents and purposes Hermione was still single, especially if she was upset and disappointed with Weasley. Stuck here at Malfoy Manor there was no way to change that, but Draco could take advantage of the situation, could provide Hermione with the comfort and support that he would never have got away with at any other time.

He looked over at his parents who were laughingly comparing gifts with the Grangers. Draco wondered what they would do if he made a move on Hermione. Previously, he had always assumed that they would react badly, but seeing them getting on so well with her parents he now wasn’t so sure, and if he was ever going to get what he wanted then now was the moment to go for it. He would never have another chance.

But could he open his heart to Hermione and admit that she was what he had asked for? Draco really wished that he knew what Hermione’s request had been as he still wasn’t certain that it was actually a ring she was expecting. What if it was something more ephemeral, a declaration of love rather than a confirmation of it?

Draco’s heart raced as he realised that it was possible that Weasley had never been meant to be the one to give Hermione what she had asked Father Christmas for. Perhaps her being here wasn’t to fulfil his wish but to give him a chance to grant hers. After all, the snowstorm that had trapped her had come out of nowhere, and surely it was no coincidence that she had got stuck somewhere that he would find her?

Excitement raced through Draco at the thought that Father Christmas had arranged it but soon crashed with a thud. Whatever Hermione’s wish had been it probably hadn’t been anything to do with him. If it had Weasley’s present wouldn’t have upset her as much as it had. But maybe that didn’t matter either. Hermione was here, and so was he, and Weasley was nowhere near and couldn’t interfere in whatever Draco chose to do.

He looked across to where Hermione was standing with her parents, listening to the conversation but not taking part. She looked unhappy and Draco felt his own sense of dissatisfaction. Someone as pretty as Hermione should be smiling on Christmas Day, not looking as if she was about to burst into tears, and he had to do something about it, even if she rejected him. He had to try.

Draco had a quick word with his father, asking if he and Hermione could have another drink. Lucius, in a good mood from the entertaining company, had been quick to agree, and Draco had gone to the drinks cabinet, refreshing everyone’s glasses. Once he had given them out to the parents he took his and Hermione’s drinks over to where she was standing, once again looking at the Christmas tree.

‘Here we are, Hermione.’ He held out the glass.

Hermione looked at it but didn’t take it. ‘I don’t really want another drink,’ she said quietly. ‘I know it’s early but do you think your parents would mind if I went to bed?’

Draco pushed the glass into her hand. ‘It’s not even seven o’clock yet. It’s too early to turn in. I know you’re not feeling particularly happy at the moment, but a drink will help.’

‘Who said I’m not happy?’ Hermione’s tone was colder.

‘The tears at the earlier present and the unhappy expression on your face gave it away somewhat,’ Draco said honestly. ‘I assume that whatever was in that box wasn’t what you were hoping for?’

Hermione sighed. ‘As I said, I think I asked for something impossible.’ She took a mouthful of the drink.

‘Maybe you asked for the wrong thing,’ Draco suggested, ‘or maybe you didn’t specify properly.’

Hermione stared at him. ‘I know what I asked for.’

‘Will you tell me?’ Draco asked.

Hermione shook her head but then she sighed. ‘Why not? I don’t suppose it makes any difference now. Will you tell me what you asked for?’

Draco felt his heart clench, knowing he had no choice but to say yes if he was ever going to find out what Hermione had asked for, but the idea terrified him. What if she didn’t like his answer?

‘You tell me what you asked for and then I’ll tell you what I asked for,’ he bargained. ‘Deal?’

He held out his free hand. Hermione looked at it for a few seconds, then took it and shook.

‘Okay . . . it’s really stupid though. I know it is, and I know you’ll think it’s pathetic—’

‘I’m not going to be able to judge unless you actually tell me,’ Draco pointed out, realising Hermione was stalling.

Hermione took another swig of her drink.

‘I asked Father Christmas to bring me a boyfriend.’ She gave a bitter chuckle. ‘Stupid, isn’t it? But when I saw that box . . . .’

‘You thought Weasley had bought you a ring,’ Draco finished.

Hermione nodded. There were tears in her eyes again.

‘I thought it would be Ron. He was so awful to me about the Yule Ball because he was jealous that I went with Viktor, but he’s never done anything about it. I thought he had finally plucked up the courage . . . but I was wrong. Nothing’s changed. He’s not interested in me in a romantic way — so no boyfriend.’

‘What was the present?’ Draco asked, eager to understand what the item in the box had been but not wanting to admit that he had seen it.

Hermione snorted unhappily. ‘It was Ron’s idea of a joke,’ she said sourly. ‘Instead of a ring he gave me a Hula Hoop.’

Draco frowned thinking about the item in the small box. ‘Isn’t that one of those ring things that kids play with, they spin them around their body? Surely it was too big to fit in that box.’

‘Yes. But the one Ron gave me is a type of crisp made by Muggles,’ Hermione explained. ‘I assume he must have got it from the supermarket in Ottery St Catchpole. The crisps are in the shape of a ring. When I was at junior school we used to wear them and pretend we were wearing fine jewellery. I think Harry and I talked about it once and Ron must have remembered.’

‘That was a mean thing to do,’ Draco said feeling intensely sorry for Hermione and unable to understand why Weasley would do something so unkind to his friend.

‘Knowing him he thought it would be funny,’ Hermione said, her voice pinched. ‘He bought me that book you gave me as well. That was the main present, the ring box was just a joke, but of course I was so focussed on him being my boyfriend that I didn’t realise that until I opened it. I know I shouldn’t have been disappointed, but . . . .’

‘It was understandable that you were disappointed, and I don’t think it was much of a joke,’ Draco said. He wanted to add that he didn’t think Weasley was good enough for Hermione, but was savvy enough to understand that this would more likely alienate her rather than draw her closer to him; she would probably see the comment as another of his regular attacks on her friends, not the compliment he intended.

‘So what did you ask for? Let’s face it, it can’t be any worse than my request,’ Hermione said. Then she remembered. ‘You said you got yours. What was it?’ ~~~~

Draco licked his lips nervously. His heart was beating a tattoo and he wished it would stop. He gazed into Hermione’s eyes.

‘I asked for you.’

Hermione stared at him in shock.

‘You did what?’

‘I asked Father Christmas for you,’ Draco repeated. ‘And despite him saying that he couldn’t get you for me, he did, and here you are.’

‘You asked for . . . .’

‘You. Yes.’ Draco nodded. He moved closer to Hermione and took hold of her free hand.

‘But why?’

‘Because I think I’m in love with you and I’d like you to be my girlfriend,’ Draco admitted.

Hermione just stared at him.

‘I know you think I’m joking, or that I’m saying it to wind you up after what you just told me about your request,’ Draco said hurriedly. ‘But the truth is that I’ve liked you for a long time, Hermione, but I couldn’t do anything about it. You know what my father was like. I couldn’t risk him doing anything to you because of his anger with me.

‘When I asked Father Christmas for you, it really was to test him because I knew there was no way he could grant my request. But then the snow came, and you were trapped, and you came here and my parents—’ Draco shook his head as if in disbelief. ‘I’ve got no idea what’s come over them, but they’re completely different.

‘So maybe Weasley wasn’t meant to be your boyfriend,’ he concluded.

‘Are you saying you are?’ Hermione asked doubtfully.

Draco nodded. ‘Think about it, Hermione. It makes sense. You asked for a boyfriend and ended up stranded in a freak snowstorm in the one area of the country where the person who most fancies you and even asked for you as a gift from Father Christmas lives. That’s a little bit too much of a coincidence, don’t you think?’

‘But you’ve always hated me,’ Hermione said.

‘Not true. But I’m the son of a Death Eater and you’re Muggle-born.’

‘You mean Mudblood, don’t you?’ Hermione asked archly. ‘That’s what you normally call me.’

‘When I’m at school with my Pure-blood friends. I had to keep up appearances; remember what I said about not wanting to draw my father’s attention to my feelings. But I never meant it. And why do you think I spend so much time arguing with you? It’s the only way I can ever get anywhere near you. I think you’re wonderful, Hermione.’

‘Well excuse me if I don’t believe you. It’s a nice story but I can’t believe you’re the boyfriend I asked for.’

‘Is it really that hard to believe?’ Draco said, trying to stem the annoyance that was rising within him. ‘I’ve opened my heart to you here, Hermione. Why would I admit to asking for you if it wasn’t true?’

‘Because you’re bored and you want someone to play with, and you know you can upset me,’ Hermione replied.

Draco sighed. ‘I don’t want to upset you. My whole reason for coming over here was to try to cheer you up. Forget all the school stuff because it’s in the past and it was all a bluff anyway. Today you’ve seen the true me, and I’m not that bad, am I? I thought you were having a good time, that we were getting on well.’

‘We were,’ Hermione said. ‘But I wasn’t thinking of it in terms of a relationship. It was just getting through Christmas Day pleasantly.’

‘So you were going to ignore me when we go back to school?’ Draco asked.

‘You were going to do the same, weren’t you?’

‘Actually, I wasn’t. I was surprised at how easy you are to get on with, and I’ve really enjoyed your company. I was hoping the friendship that started today would continue to grow once we returned.’ Draco paused for a moment to take a drink, then said, ‘I know this has all come out of the blue for you, Hermione. But do you think we could try?’

‘Try what? To be friends or are you talking more?’

‘Both if possible, but I’ll take friends to start with if that makes you feel more comfortable.’

‘I don’t know, Draco. Harry and Ron won’t be very happy,’ Hermione said.

‘What’s it got to do with them?’ Draco asked heatedly. ‘You’ve already told me Weasley isn’t interested. And Potter’s not your boyfriend either.’

‘No, but they’re my best friends.’

‘You think my friends are going to be happy about this?’ Draco asked. ‘The difference is that I don’t care. I want you to be my girlfriend and I’m not bothered about what anyone else thinks.’

Hermione sighed. ‘I just don’t think it would work out, Draco. You and I are so different.’

‘Not really. We’re both intelligent and we’re pretty evenly matched in magic; if anything we’re probably perfect for each other. And we’ve got on well enough today. Why shouldn’t we continue to do so? Please, Hermione. Give me a chance to prove that I’m the one.’

Hermione bit her bottom lip as she debated what to say, knowing that if she agreed she was probably making a huge mistake. But the truth was that she’d had a really good day with Draco and he had been far nicer than she had ever realised . . . and if what he had said about his request to Father Christmas was true then it was one heck of a coincidence that she had ended up at Malfoy Manor, today of all days.

‘I—’

‘Draco, Hermione, there’s a present for you over here,’ Narcissa said, sounding surprised.

The couple turned to look at her as she waved a square package wrapped in plain brown kraft paper. It was tied in a bow with string and was nothing special to look at.

Still holding Hermione’s hand, Draco led her over to his mother. She held out the parcel.

‘It’s addressed to both of you.’

‘Who’s it from?’ Draco asked.

‘I’ve got no idea. I’ve never seen it before. Your father just found it tucked under the Christmas tree.’

Draco and Hermione looked at each other and then at the present. Draco dropped Hermione’s hand and took the gift from his mother. Hermione reached out to turn the label over. It had both their names printed on it in neat black ink. There was no clue as to who the sender was.

‘Well open it then,’ David said.

‘Yes, don’t keep us in suspense,’ Lucius added. He took Draco’s glass from him.

Draco held the present out to Hermione. She shook her head. He undid the bow, pulled the string from the gift, then ripped off the paper and dropped them both on the floor. Hermione reached out and pulled the lid from the box that had been revealed and they both stared at the contents.

‘What is it?’ Maureen asked.

‘Does it say who it’s from?’ Narcissa enquired.

Draco picked up the folded parchment that lay on top of a large sprig of mistletoe. He opened it, looked at it, then showed it to Hermione.

 

**_You’re going to need this._ **

**_Merry Christmas!_ **

 

Underneath the words was a small picture of Father Christmas.

‘Now do you believe me?’ Draco asked gently.

Hermione stared at him, then back at the mistletoe.

‘What does it say?’ Lucius asked.

Draco showed him the note, lowering the box a little so his father could see the mistletoe. He waited for the explosion.

‘I think that’s a hint, Draco,’ Lucius said jovially.

‘Yes, I think so too.’

Draco grabbed the mistletoe, dropping the box on the floor and stepped towards Hermione. He held it up above their heads.

‘Merry Christmas, Hermione,’ he said quietly, his pale eyes shining.

Hermione studied him for a moment, then a smile graced her lips. ‘Merry Christmas, Draco.’

Draco kept the mistletoe above them as he leant in to kiss Hermione, still unable to believe that his parents were going to let him do it. He released the mistletoe and it bobbed just above their heads. Draco wrapped his arms around Hermione, pulling her to him as the kiss deepened, his heart hammering as her arms slid around him in return.

When the kiss finished he continued to hold her, looking up to count the berries.

‘There are nine berries left on that mistletoe,’ he said happily. ‘That means nine more kisses.’

Hermione grabbed his head, pulling Draco towards her and a warm feeling spread throughout his body. She had instigated the kiss.

‘Perhaps this freak snowstorm wasn’t such a random occurrence after all,’ David mused as he and the rest of the parents watched their children kissing.

‘They make a lovely couple,’ Maureen ventured.

‘They’re certainly well-matched,’ Lucius admitted.

‘Perhaps we should leave them to it? The house-elves are just about to serve supper in the dining room.’ Narcissa pointed towards the door.

‘Sterling idea,’ Lucius said, and he offered Maureen his arm.

David did the same with Narcissa and the four of them left the room, leaving their offspring alone in the drawing room.

‘Do you want to eat?’ Draco asked as the latest kiss finished.

Hermione shook her head. ‘Not hungry at the moment.’ She looked up at the mistletoe. ‘What happens when the berries have gone?’

‘The plant disappears,’ Draco answered.

‘So no more kisses.’

‘Oh, I don’t know about that. I’m quite happy to spend the rest of the night kissing you. I don’t need mistletoe to do it.’

‘I like that idea very much,’ Hermione admitted.

Draco smiled and then he kissed her again.


End file.
